


This Could Be the End of Everything (or the start of something new)

by dreamedofwings (fabre)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Omega Castiel, Romance, Royalty, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabre/pseuds/dreamedofwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they first meet, Dean doesn't think much of Castiel.</p>
<p>They're standing in the gardens of the palace and he's not impressed. </p>
<p>Not that it matters. He's not here to fall in love and have some kind of fairy tale ending-- he's here because his father, looking defeated, pulled him aside one night and told him he needed his help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by annehboleyn @ tumblr: "I'd like to read about a DeanCas arranged marriage AU, where Dean thinks he'll be miserable marrying someone he doesn't know, but he ends up liking Cas and thinking that maybe they can be happy together after all."

When they first meet, Dean doesn't think much of Castiel.

They're standing in the gardens of the palace and he's not impressed.   
  
Not that it matters. He's not here to fall in love and have some kind of fairy tale ending-- he's here because his father, looking defeated, pulled him aside one night and told him he needed his help. See, they owed money. A lot of money. After their mother died, John had turned to alcohol for a while. Not enough to drive them to ruin, but when he'd snapped himself out of it after one too many nights losing himself to his grief, he'd suddenly been faced with the consequences of his actions. Sammy was getting older and showing such promise, he'd been invited to attend a special academy normally only reserved for nobility. And how could John say no? Sam was so bright and he was so hopeful about the idea -- it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, only even a possibility because John was good friends with the king, who had asked the academy to make an exception for his good friend's son.  
  
But they couldn't afford it. Not on a measly blacksmith's salary.

So he'd gone to the wrong sort of people. The kind who you don't want to owe money to. And he'd basically sold them his soul.  
  
"I wouldn't ask this of you if they would only come for me," He'd told his eldest, hand gripping his shoulder in a grip tight enough to hurt, but Dean could hardly hear it through the blood pumping through his ears, a sound so loud he could barely hear the rest of his father's words, "But they threatened Sam, Dean. They threatened to kill him. I thought I'd be able to settle the debt by myself, but they keep on adding more and more interests. If we don't pay it off now..." He sounded so pained, so frustrated at being unable to solve this by himself.   
  
The words were out of Dean's lips before he'd fully registered them, "What do you need me to do?"  
  
\---

So that's how Dean ends up here, standing next to a near stranger in front of an altar. His name is Castiel, and he is king Charles' youngest son, the only omega in a long line of alphas and betas. Dean doesn't know all the details, but he does know that the boy only turned 17 a few weeks ago, and it was only then that his true nature had been revealed. A late bloomer, they had said.   
  
It was almost unthinkable in their kingdom for an omega to remain unmarried past his fourteenth birthday, so his father had obviously, out of concern for his youngest, set about trying to find him a good mate. But no matter how many alphas he'd been introduced to, both princes and commoners, older and younger and gentle and rough, the prince had remained unimpressed. Which, admittedly, does make Dean wonder why  _he_  was chosen in the end.   
  
Not that it matters. He's here for Sam, for his family. And as long as that dowry serves to settle his father's debt, that's all the cares about.  
  
Nothing else matters.  
  
\---  
  


Getting used to living with Castiel is odd at first. The boy is not  _shy_ per se, but he's quiet, and sometimes Dean will catch him watching him from across the room, and well -- that's just a little bit creepy. But he won't look away right away when Dean catches him staring -- almost as if he doesn't know he's not supposed to.  
  
Seriously. Princes.  
  
But overall, it's all going better than Dean expected. He was surprised, but the house that Castiel asked his father for is... well, rather simple. Almost cozy. Castiel has the bigger room, clearly the master bedroom they were meant to use together, but the very first thing he'd told Dean on their wedding night had been that he should feel under no obligation to share his bed -- that he'd thought Dean would want his privacy and arranged for Dean to stay in the room next door, if that was what he'd prefer.  
  
Dean had been surprised, but also thankful, glad that he wouldn't be forced to 'perform' like some kind of kept breeding pet. Not that he knew what Castiel's plans were when it came to children, but hey. It's what he'd been expecting. Weren't princes supposed to care about having children and whatnot?  
  
But so far, Dean's life has remained mostly unchanged. He's still allowed to help his father at the smithy, still allowed to visit his brother and go about his life. The only thing that's changed is that now there's a ring on his finger and he comes home to a different place.  
  
It's... surprisingly okay, all things considered.  
  
\---

"What are you reading?"

Dean's leaning against the entrance to the library, which is basically Castiel's lair -- his husband (and isn't that a weird thought to have?) spends so much time in here, Dean wouldn't be surprised if he'd one day find his mattress dragged in here too, not even caring to try to pretend he wants to be anywhere else anymore.  
  
Cas (as Dean's taken to calling him in his head -- shut up, 'Castiel' is a freaking tongue twister) jumps a little at the interruption and seems a little flustered from where he's curled up on his favorite armchair, shoes abandoned on the floor, "Dean! You're home early." He tries to straighten up and look a little less undignified; not that Dean minds. It made for kind of an adorable picture, okay? Cas will nibble on his lower lip when he's reading and his brow will furrow when there's something he doesn't understand, and occasionally he'll repeat a word he's just read in a mumble, trying out the shape of the sound in his lips -- and okay, what, so Dean's been paying a little more attention these days, okay? He realized one day that he'd actively been avoiding his husband since their marriage (okay, so it was Sam who made him notice when he asked about Castiel's personality and Dean had no answers for him) and considering how nice Cas has been about the whole deal, well, Dean is trying to get to know him a little better. Which apparently requires a little bit of staring. Sometimes.  
  
Dean clears his throat and comes in, leaning against the back of Cas' chair to look over his shoulder. He's a little surprised when he catches a whiff of cinnamon and something woodsy -- nothing too strong, just the faintest of scents. It's not unpleasant. Maybe Cas put on some kind of cologne? "Is that--" His thoughts get interrupted when his eyes finally focus on the pages in front of him and he laughs, "Cas, are you reading a  _fairy tale_?"  
  
Castiel turns a little red in the face, pointedly holding his book closer -- almost protectively, "We were always forbidden from reading them in the castle. If a book was not about History or Politics, it was off limits. The younger servants were always whispering about them, so I always wondered--" He pauses, looking down at the book in his arms, "I find them relaxing."  
  
"Rebelling in your own way now that you're away from home. Way to go, Cas." Dean can't help his grin, leaning a bit closer, "I bet waiting for prince charming sounds a lot better than marrying someone against your will, in any case."  
  
Cas' eyes lose focus for a moment, almost as if he's gone somewhere else, and then he shakes his head sharply and colors a deeper red, pointedly looking at his book, "It wasn't an imposition." His voice is soft, but it becomes stronger as he takes a deep breath and meets Dean's eyes, "When father asked whether there was no one in this realm who I'd be willing to marry, I said he was wrong. I told him I'd marry the blacksmith's eldest son -- I was just answering his question. I didn't think he would make it happen." Cas is up and out of his chair before Dean can recover from that revelation, his back to him as he pauses at the door, "I'm sorry you were forced into this marriage, Dean."  
  
And then he's gone.  
  
And with him, the smell of cinnamon and wood.  
  
\---  
  
It's been a week since their conversation and what's worrying is that normally Dean should have run into Castiel by now, but he's yet to see hide nor hair of him. And okay, maybe he still doesn't know what to say after Cas'... semi-confession, but he's still a little worried, okay? Is the omega avoiding him? What's even weirder is that his meals have started tasting different, slightly off, not that Dean can detect any significant difference in the menu, and his mind is so troubled by all of this, he almost doesn't stop in time to avoid a full-front collision with a servant girl exiting the kitchen, carrying a tray full of food.  
  
"Shit! Oh, hey, Claire, sorry about that, didn't see you there." Claire dismisses his apologies with a smile and Dean finally takes notice of the tray, a frown coming to his face, "Wait, is that for Cas? Is he sick? I haven't seen him all week."  
  
"Prince Castiel has been staying in his room for the past few days so he asked me to cook your meals and bring his food to him upstairs," Claire pauses and gives him a look, as if she's thinking carefully of her answer, before seeming to make up her mind and continuing, "It's the fourth week of the month. He's in heat."   
   
"Oh," And well, Dean's just standing there like an idiot, feeling a blush color his face as he connects the dots in his mind, "I mean, I see. I." But wait. "Wait." Something doesn't add up -- he frowns, "Did you say he asked you to cook my meals?"  
  
Claire blinks and lifts an eyebrow at him, and Dean kinda likes her, because she's one of the few maids who's not afraid to look at him like he's an idiot when he's asking stupid questions, "Well, yes. Normally, he insists on cooking all your meals. When you are at the smithy, he usually spends time in the castle, getting cooking lessons from the head chef."  
  
And. Well. Damn. Some of the best burgers he's eaten in his life, and he never knew that was his husband making them for him. His  _very much royalty_  husband cooking for him. Well, Dean feels like an idiot alright. "Oh. Um," He shakes his head sharply, "Look, here. I'll take it up to him." He takes the tray from Claire, who doesn't look too convinced by his offer, "Hey, it'll be fine. He won't mind." At least Dean hopes so.   
  
In the end, Dean dismisses her awkwardly (he's still bad at that) with a thank you and starts the slow trek up the stairs, pausing outside Cas' room and shifting the tray to one hand so he can knock on the door, "Hey, Cas? I brought you dinner."  
  
It's suddenly unnaturally silent on the other side of the door and Dean starts wondering if maybe he should have just let Claire bring Cas his food, but then there's the sound of soft padding and Cas' door props open a bit. Cas leans against it, wearing an oversized shirt that exposes a bony shoulder through the wide collar (and Dean is pointedly not looking, nope) and he looks exhausted, eyes dilated and his face flushed and too warm and his hair a sweaty mess, and, god, but that sweet  _smell_  is stronger than ever, incredibly alluring and woodsy and smelling a little bit like the freshly baked pies he remembers his mother making before she died.    
  
"Hello, Dean." His voice is rougher and deeper than ever, and, whoa, okay, not the best moment to get inappropriately aroused, Dean, what are you doing. You're just here to bring him food.  
  
"Um," Dean brings the tray up between them almost like a shield, poking Castiel in the chest with it in the process, "Yeah, food. You need to eat."  
  
Cas gives him a tired smile and takes the tray, giving the food a cursory glance before returning his eyes to Dean, "Thank you."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They both stand there for a long moment, simply staring at each other, and Dean's having a hard time keeping his arousal in check, but god, he could spend hours looking at him like this, and possibly with no clothes included. Yeah, that'd be better, then he could lick him all over and---  
  
"Dean." Cas is calling his name, and from the sound of it, it seems like he's been trying to get his attention for a minute now. Dean shakes his head and finally listens, "Dean, I really should... go back inside." Cas' breathing is getting faster and he's probably having a hot flash, so uh, yeah. Dean should probably let him go before they both do something they'll regret.  
  
"Uh, yeah. I'll. Yeah. I'll be downstairs -- if you need anything, I mean. That came out wrong. Erm, not that I'm-- Uh." God, he feels like a fumbling teenager and he's older than Cas -- he should be smoother, not  _completely awkward_.  
  
Cas smiles at him, and that lovely scent becomes stronger, making Dean's heart beat faster, his heart sprinting in his chest, "We'll talk in a few days."  
  
"Yeah."   
  
It seems like Dean's vocabulary is currently comprised of nothing but idiotic sounding grunts, so he just goes quiet again, and they stare at each other for a moment longer before they both realize what they're doing and laugh sheepishly at their own idiocy, Dean shaking his head and Cas giving him a small smile and a final 'Bye, Dean' before closing the door.  
  
Dean feels like he's walking on air as he makes his way back downstairs, still chuckling to himself as he goes back to the kitchen.  
  
Claire is standing by the stove, preparing his own lunch, and he pauses on his way to get a glass of water, giving the girl a considering glance.  
  
"Hey, Claire."   
  
"Yes, lord Winchester?" 

"Have you ever..." Dean hesitates here, but then forces himself to continue, "Say you met someone, and well, when you first met them, they didn't have a scent." He reaches for a glass of water, just for something to do with his hands, "And then, as time passed, and you got to know them, you started to notice...  well, their scent. And it was really, really pleasant."

"Well, lord Winchester..."   
  
"It's Dean. I've told you a million times."  
  
"Not gonna happen. So as I was saying,  _Lord Winchester_ , if that were to happen to me." Claire pauses in her cooking to give Dean a knowing glance, before resuming her task, "I would consider myself quite lucky."  
  
Dean stops mid-drink to glance at her, "You would?"  
  
"Well, of course." Claire turns off the stove and moves to collect a plate, "Because that is how all the stories describe meeting one's lifemate."  
  
That gets a snort from him, "Those are nothing but fairy tales."  
  
"I wouldn't be so sure." Claire smiles as she goes on to serve his lunch, setting his plate down on the small kitchen table he preferred to take his lunches at, "After all, that's how Prince Castiel said he realized he was in love with you." And before Dean can even think of a reply, she is gone with a final, "Have a good lunch, lord Winchester."  
  
Holy shit.  
  
Cas is in love with him?  
  
But, well, somehow, if he's being honest... the prospect doesn't seem that scary anymore.  
  
Dean lets himself drop on his chair heavily, his body unable to hold him up anymore, and his eyes drift upwards, in the direction of his husband's room.  
  
He'll wait until Cas' heat is over. He'll wait until they are both themselves, and then they'll figure this out. Together.  
  
A tiny speck of hope flutters in his chest.  
  
And then maybe... well, just maybe, they won't be needing a second bedroom for Dean anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Dean tries to talk to Cas after his heat is over, he chickens out before he even makes it to the hallway that leads to Cas' library.

The first time Dean tries to talk to Cas after his heat is over, he chickens out before he even makes it to the hallway that leads to Cas' library. 

The second time, he changes his mind just before he reaches the door and tries to make it seem like he always meant to casually turn around right there in the middle of the hallway to walk in the direction he'd originally come from (like an  _idiot_ , he adds sourly in his head).  
  
The third time, he actually makes it to the door, hand halfway to knocking before he realizes how stupid it will probably seem to Castiel that he's suddenly decided to start knocking in his own house when he's never done that before. Embarrassed, he turns around and walks off, mumbling obscenities all the way and tugging at his hair in frustration.  
  
(On the other side of the door, Castiel relaxes in his seat as his husband's scent slowly shifts and loses its edge of intent, fading as the man gets further away from him -- but he can't help also feeling a little bit disappointed, cursing under his breath. Dean's indecision will be the death of him, he swears.)  
  
\---  
  
Dean finally makes up his mind to confront him -- or well, more like he gets his mind made up for him when Claire grows tired of his indecisive pacing and pushes him into the kitchen (he's so gonna get her for that, damn meddler), where he runs into a barefoot Castiel currently in front of the stove, sautéing something that smells delicious even from the doorway.   
  
"H-Hey," Smooth, Winchester. Dean clears his throat and walks closer, peeking over Cas' shoulder. "That smells really good."  
  
Cas glances at him and he doesn't seem that surprised to see Dean there, which Dean finds odd but doesn't comment on, far more interested on the light flush on his cheeks, and how, now that he's standing this close, he can actually notice how Cas' posture betrays how tense he is, "Hello, Dean. Dinner is almost ready."  
  
"Yeah, that's. That's good." Dean leans against the counter so he can watch Cas cook, staying close but giving him his space. "You wanna eat together tonight?" Cas looks up at him in surprise, but he seems pleased, so Dean grins at him and can't help but notice how Cas' sweet-tinted scent gets just a little bit sweeter when he returns his smile with a small 'Yes'-- not cloying, not at all, just. Shifting. Becoming... purer, in a way.   
  
Intrigued, Dean leans a little closer and sniffs curiously at the spot where Cas' neck meets his shoulder, laughing as his husband jumps a little and lifts a hand to cover the spot in embarrassment, shifting just a little bit to put some space between them. "Dean, w-what are you -- you are going to make me burn dinner." He grumbles. His scent's changed again, but it's still good, a tangier tone that makes Dean want to lean closer again.  
  
"Your scent changed just now. Twice."  
  
Castiel freezes in place and looks up at Dean in clear shock.  
  
Um. Okay, awkward. "N-Not that it was unpleasant or anything! It's actually really, really good. Um, not that I go around smelling you all the time or anything. I just meant --I meant you have a really pleasant scent. I mean, it's okay. You know, for a scent."  
  
Castiel is still staring at him and Dean eyes the frying pan he's holding pointedly, because the food seems to be about done and shouldn't Cas be getting it off the fire because otherwise their dinner really is gonna get burned, and...  
  
"You can smell me? I've got a scent?" Cas' voice is so quiet, but it's hopeful and tentative all at once, and suddenly Dean's remembering what Claire told him, about how one only notices a scent after...  
  
Crap.  
  
Dean flushes a deep red and steps back very pointedly to put some space between them, keeping himself busy by rummaging inside their cabinets for a pair of plates and silverware. "That looks about done -- here, plates. For the food. Yeah, 'cause you know, it's dinnertime."  
  
Cas gives him a look like he knows what Dean's doing, but thankfully doesn't ask him about it, he seems happy enough to just serve their food and then lead him to the table, where they both sit down to eat one of the most awkward, completely silent (but delicious) meals Dean's ever had in his life.   
  
It's hard to concentrate, though, especially with the sweet smell coming off Cas, and is he--- is he happy? That would explain the shift in his scent, and Dean's having a hard time stopping himself from blurting out something he shouldn't, so he shoves more food into his mouth than is really appropriate and finishes in record time.   
  
Awkward aside, it was really good.  
  
"Damn, Cas. That was delicious." That sweet scent gets stronger and when he looks up at Cas, he's smiling, looking a bit shy still but so pleased with himself too. And shit, that's it, Dean can't take it anymore. "Crap." He stands abruptly and within seconds he's pulling Cas to his feet, holding his face in his hands so he can look into startled blue eyes, his voice a husky whisper, "Please tell me it's okay to kiss you. I really, really want to kiss you."  
  
"Dean." Those blue eyes are getting darker and his scent is turning muskier and Dean didn't think he could find Cas any more attractive, but shit, he's being proven wrong  _right now_. "Waited too long." And before Dean can ask him what he means by that, he gets a very physical response to his question, because Cas is tugging on Dean's hair to bring him closer and pressing their lips together with a contented whine in the back of his throat, and they're standing in their kitchen making out like teenagers and Dean couldn't give less of a fuck who walks in on them.  
  
That night, they don't get to washing the dishes.  
  
Dean also never makes it back to his room.  
  
(Damn it. He's gonna have to buy Claire 'thank you' flowers.)


	3. Before the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prequel to the main story, from Castiel's POV. 
> 
> Castiel has never wanted for much in his life.

Castiel has never wanted for much in his life.

He is not the oldest, not even the second oldest, so he has never been expected to be prepared to rule once his father passes away. It has afforded him a level of freedom he would not have been otherwise been granted, and he is indeed grateful for that.

Some would consider his life a lonely one because his father is so often away from the castle -- his brothers too busy training to provide much company to the youngest of them all.

But Castiel has his books, and his secret, late night horseback riding adventures with his maid, Claire, who has dutifully helped him keep it a secret from his father for many years now.

He leads a simple life, and he is content with that.

He _can_  be content with that.

—

It all starts one day when Castiel is in the lower town, taking a stroll through the lively streets, hidden under the anonymity afforded by his cloak. He has walked past John Winchester's smithy a million times before, but this time a young man stands by the forge in his place. His shirt is off to fight off the heat produced by its fire, rivulets of sweat following a winding road down a strong back. 

Castiel is rooted to the spot, and he does not understand why.

A younger man comes out of the shop then, tells the older that dinner is ready, and their easy familiarity speaks of kinship, of shared blood.

The smile the man gives the younger is blinding, and Castiel cannot breathe, he cannot.

The feeling frightens him.

Castiel turns and runs back to the castle, heart pounding in his chest.

He tells himself he will never return. 

(The next day, he finds a better spot to watch the other man without being seen.)

—

A day becomes two, becomes a week, a month, a year. Sometimes Castiel is able to resist the lure of the man (Dean -- he has learned his name is Dean. But then again, he has learned all there is to know about him. He has learned of his kindness, how he hides it underneath a rough exterior and a quick wit. That the younger man he saw with him during that first day is Sam, his little brother, who Dean would do anything in the world for)... but not often. 

His reaction to Dean is a puzzle and Castiel is determined to figure it out.

(In the meantime, he continues watching Dean, ignoring the way that smile continues to twist up his insides.)

—

On the day Castiel is informed of his status as an omega, he can barely string a thought together. They all battle for his attention at the forefront of his mind -- what it means for him, what it means for his freedom (what of his visits to the smithy, how will he do that with a mate? What if he is forced to leave the city altogether?).

So he does the only thing he can think to do.

He runs off to the lower town, his feet carrying him to his favorite spot without him having anything to say in the matter.

By the time he gets there, Castiel is out of breath from running, still lightheaded from his earlier revelation -- so he really cannot be faulted when he trips on his way to his usual hiding spot, closing his eyes tightly and holding his breath as he braces himself for a fall.

... A fall that never arrives, because he collides with a solid chest and strong hands steady him by gripping his arms, "Whoa, easy there!"

Castiel is embarrassed, but grateful, and he straightens up to thank his impromptu savior, inhaling deeply--

_Grass and rain and wind and thunder and **freedom**._

And it is like all the wind has been knocked out of him -- like someone has seen fit to punch him right in the chest and they have decided to keep their fist there, thank you very much. 

"You alright?" 

Dean has yet to see his face and the part of Castiel that is still able to function is eternally grateful for that, even as he stares at the floor with wide, panicked eyes, thoughts going a mile a minute. He gives a wordless nod and pulls away, tucking his cloak closer around him.

"Hey, I said--?"

He does not stay to listen to the end of Dean's question. 

Like that very first day, Castiel turns and flees.

As he does, he swears to himself he will never set foot in front of Dean again.

If he is to be married to some stranger, he cannot allow himself to think of that scent ever again.

—

Castiel is many things, but a liar is not one of them.

Weeks later, when King Charles wearily asks him whether there is really no one in the realm he would be willing to marry -- both of them exhausted after countless meetings with both local and foreign nobles--, Castiel answers from the heart, expecting nothing to come of it.

By the end of the month, his father has already arranged for them to be married. 

Even as his heart sings with happiness, having been denied the sight and smell of the other man for so long, Castiel cannot help but be sad.

Dean thinks nothing of him. If he could not already sense it in his scent, he could have read it in his eyes. (Perhaps someone else would not have noticed, but Castiel spent over a year learning everything there was to know about Dean.)

On the day of their wedding, he promises himself he will do everything in his power to make Dean feel as comfortable as possible, to make up for his inability to lie when he should have -- for putting them both in this position.

Dean may never come to love him, but Castiel thinks he can live with that. Having him close will just have to be enough.

And if it is not, Castiel will have to learn to think of it as such.

He will.


	4. Epilogue: Pillow Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief glimpse into their future.

The sun is just starting to go down and they're still in bed, the blanket soft against their cooling bare skin, and Dean couldn't be more comfortable. Cas is lying on his back and half of Dean's body is basically covering him, face buried in the spot where Cas' shoulder meets the elegant column of his neck, and there is absolutely no way he's going anywhere anytime soon. 

Cas runs his fingers gently through Dean's hair, chuckling softly when the latter makes a contented noise that rumbles deep in his chest, nuzzling closer into that intoxicating scent -- the smell of his mate, of  _his home_.  
  
"When you said you wanted us to try for a baby, I did not think you meant we would not be leaving this bed until it actually happened." Cas adds softly and Dean can hear the smile in his voice. The words might sound like a complaint, but Dean knows better -- he can smell just how okay his husband is with this plan.  
  
Dean props himself up on an elbow, careful not to dislodge Cas' fingers, making sure to give his husband his most charming grin, "Well, you know me, Cas. I'm just very thorough like that."  
  
Castiel shakes his head with a small, exasperated smile and Dean can't resist leaning forward to press their lips together, "Won't be long now," He says when they part, full of confidence. And then, a little softer, "I hope the baby'll have your eyes."  
  
Cas gets a little red at that, but his scent grows even sweeter, so Dean only grins and leans forward to kiss the tip of his nose (which he knows Cas pretends to hate, but really, Dean can read him too well now), "If you say so, Dean."  
  
"I do say so," Dean grabs the hand still buried in his hair and pulls it closer to his face, gently pressing a kiss to each long finger, "I can't wait for the baby to get here."  
  
Cas only laughs at the earnest enthusiasm in his voice, his fingers twitching in Dean's hold, brushing against his lips, "Patience, alpha. You have to get me pregnant first."  
  
"You're absolutely right," The smirk Dean gives him then is downright obscene and it makes Cas shiver in his arms (he's never going to get over how much everything he does affects Cas -- it's like a high and he's shamelessly addicted to it), "I should probably get on with that, shouldn't I?"  
  
Cas is, once again, turning that particular shade of red Dean loves so much, but he's got that determined glint in his eyes as well, so Dean really shouldn't be surprised when, a moment later, he finds himself on his back with a lapful of smiling, cocky omega looming over him, "You talk too much."  
  
Dean means to respond, he really does. But then Cas is kissing him, and well, a man has to have priorities, right?  
  
They keep trying.  
  
(Until they finally succeed.)


End file.
